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THE HIGH WAS GONE AS SOON AS IT CAME
Venus Meyers is a regular college student. Living with her boyfriend up until she finds out he's a serial cheater. After losing her job and her graduation getti...
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My skin feels like it's on fire.
I've never done anything like that.
I take a seat in a booth where the rest of the guys were sitting some time ago. Now, they're nowhere to be seen.
A few minutes later, Xander takes a seat beside me.
He doesn't say anything, just takes a drink.
The light glistening on his fingers makes me choke, realizing he hasn't washed his hands.
Oh, god.
The sound of my audible choking, makes him look my way and a slow smirk creeps onto his perfect face when his gaze locks on my face, at the look of mortification on my face, once he realizes what I'm staring at.
"You're disgusting," I mutter just loud enough for him to hear.
"Oh, darling, if I'm disgusting then what are you, having the front of your dress covered in my cum," he leans over, whispering the words in my ear.
"What?!" I scream almost as loud as the speakers are, but no one turns around or stops dancing, being too drunk or high to care. I look down at my dress, and there are cum stains all over the front.
Oh god.
I snatch the napkin that's under my drink, the glass toppling down, lucky for me it's an empty glass now. I rub away at the fabrics of my dress, but it doesn't do much, maybe even makes it worse.
It's bad enough that my nudes got leaked, add this and people will think I'm some sort of sex maniac.
A black jacket covers my hands and my front.
My gaze moves to the hands holding the jacket, looking at the same long and not-too-slender fingers that were inside me not so long ago.
I look up to find Xander staring at me.
"Calm down. Use this to cover yourself," he refers to his jacket, sitting back down and going back to his drink.
I stare at him in awe.
This is the nicest thing he's done for me. The only nice thing.
"Stop staring at me", he says, taking a gulp from his drink.
"Do you always have to boss me around? I'm not your employee," I say, frustration clear in my voice. I pull my hands from under the suit jacket and place them over it so it doesn't slip off my lap.
"You kinda are, or do you need a memory jog," he downs the rest of his drink.
• • •
When we get back to the hotel room, I'm barely able to stand.
I'm so tired. And drunk.
I sway on my feet a little, trying to get up the stairs. Even gripping the rail like a wise, I'm barely able to get up the stairs.
